


Disjointed

by LouLa



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-05
Updated: 2010-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-08 20:46:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouLa/pseuds/LouLa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Easy. Nothing about life is easy, really. The choice to pass up 'easy' wasn't easy. Picking complicated wasn't easy. The consequences aren't easy. But I never wanted easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disjointed

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**
> 
>  
> 
> This story contains some violence.
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta, Strae.

He came in daily, routinely. Same time, same quiet table in the back, same chair even. Always the same smile for everyone that caught his eye, always the same smile at me before he left.

His reading choices were the only changing thing. His taste seemed so eclectic, like he'd walked through any given aisle, paused at a random shelf and just pulled a book out. It seemed he'd read anything that came in printed form, from horror to comedy to memoir to romance. He always seemed engrossed, no matter the subject or genre.

He'd always just stay for a short hour, never reading a minute longer. I'd always disappear the moment his hour was up, knowing he'd be coming up to the desk to check out his current book of choice. Bella seemed to notice my extreme level of shyness around this man, but she never said a word, simply letting me hover from a distance, just to hear him speak.

Bella would offer some trivial opinion about what he was reading, given she had read or heard about it.

"Oh, this one's a tear-jerker."

"I've never laughed so hard in my life."

"Ack, history, I thought you had good taste."

He'd always politely thank her, chuckling a deep rumble of a laugh when called for, glance back at me with a polite smile, and wish her a good day.

He never ceased to make my heart race or my head spin.

I don't know what it was about him, but anytime I was near him, my throat would close up, my palms would grow sweaty, my mind would go suddenly blank, and I would turn into the world's best clam impersonator. I couldn't speak to him, I couldn't meet his eye without bursting into a heated flush, I couldn't approach him or even feign some hint of normality because the second my eyes would connect with his ice blue ones, everything disappeared. I was suddenly thrust into an alternate universe where I was brave and confident.

I would approach him and, unhesitant, I'd grip his short blonde hair and pull his mouth to mine. He'd react accordingly, stripping me naked then forcing me down onto the table in front of him, ridding himself of his own clothing before covering my body with his. A shudder would tear through me as he hitched my legs around his hips, teasing me mercilessly, continuously doing so for hours. He would make me beg for him, and I willingly would plead and whimper my desperate need for him, longing to feel him filling my body. He'd kiss and caress every inch of my bared skin, leaving no piece untouched, tasting and feeling and learning me from the outside in. Until finally, finally, he'd lose the battle with patience, lose himself and give into me, into the want. He'd take, and take hard, until neither of us could stand it anymore and our throats were raw from screaming each other's names and all we knew was how perfectly we fit together. The end would near, we'd both know it was coming as we unabashedly marred the other's skin with our need. Our sounds would grow louder, our movements quicker and more disjointed, then everything would tighten, anticipation nearing its final precipice, thoughts waning, desisting completely when we both ultimately explode...

"Excuse me, _sir_!"

Shit. It happened again.

I snapped my eyes away from the enchanting blue ones, shifting my lower body quickly behind the front desk to hide the fact that just a look from him affected me so profoundly.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, how can I help you?" I asked her as calmly as I possibly could, my voice coming out in a mere squeak.

"I would like to check these books out, please," she demanded, quite rudely shoving the books across the low counter.

I gave her a forced smile and took her library card, scanning it, then the books before bagging them up for her.

It was so utterly impossible for me to focus the entire hour he graced us with. After months of the same routine, his presence at the library was becoming an addiction for me. I craved it, I needed it, I longed for it. And yet, I couldn't even be nearer to him than a good twenty feet―ten if Bella was between us.

What exactly it was about him that affected me so, I don't honestly know. He's not the first man to catch my attention, though he definitely held it in a more overpowering way than anyone before him. Not to mention the fact that despite being shy, I've never been quite so unbearably introverted around anyone this way before. There was never a time I wasn't capable of words around a person before―or even a conscious thought.

He was also obviously older than me. I hadn't ever been attracted to a man so much more mature than my measly twenty one years. He looked... well, he looked fucking edible, but besides that he looked to be mid-thirties at least, maybe even pushing forty. Even if he was double my age, he was undoubtedly the most beautiful man I'd ever laid my eyes upon.

His shockingly bright blue eyes combined with his platinum-blonde hair and pale complexion gave him an ethereal look, nearly that of an angel. I doubt any angel would lead me to quite so vulgar thoughts... but perhaps I was just that sick and twisted.

I could tell beneath his customary trousers and button ups that he was fit. Muscular while remaining thin in appearance. I could imagine how perfectly exquisite he would be laid out nude; hard muscles under soft pale flesh, so much flawless skin for my inquisitive fingers and mouth to explore.

I wanted him. Terribly. More than I'd ever wanted anyone before. Terrifyingly.

It was mildly ridiculous since I couldn't even checkout his damn library books for him without nearly passing out―not that I'd had the courage to even try.

But courage be damned because there he stood, directly before me, a whole twenty minutes and fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven seconds before he was supposed to be.

As I met his eyes, the sudden shift nearly took me by surprise. Everything, everyone disappeared except him, myself, and the table. There I lie, nude, less his mouth hiding the most intimate part of my body deep in his throat. Velvet tongue gliding, firm yet soft lips griping, throat massaging, sharp teeth ever so gently scraping. Saliva coating as he sucks along my length until...

"Hello."

I snap my eyes away from his, blinking rapidly to burn away the images, swallow consecutively three times to empty my mouth of copious amount of saliva. Had I drooled? Oh, please, please tell me I hadn't just drooled all over myself in front of him.

He pushed his book across the counter at me, and there I stood, stalk still.

"Are you feeling well?" he asked slowly.

 _Say something, you fool_.

I nodded my head, not placing my eyes anywhere near his dangerous, exquisite body, face, or eyes. I couldn't speak, my tongue felt swollen and tied, my throat tight and closed-off barely letting air through. I hesitantly pulled his book across the counter, careful not to lose his card placed within it to hold his spot. I scanned the card, my eyes greedily taking in the information of Carlisle Cullen displayed across the screen, scanned the book, then set it back down on the desk as his receipt printed.

I wished I could say something, anything. Even a simple 'good day' would suffice. Or a 'hello' would have been nice, 'how are you today', 'can I do anything else for you', 'would you like to see my home, sir'. Anything. Instead, nothing came out of my mouth as I handed him the receipt. Not a confirmation of the due date, as I was required to tell every customer―even if I knew he would be back tomorrow, same time, same seat, same beautiful smile―not even a squeak, nothing.

Until I saw his left hand, embellished with a gold band on his third finger. Then my mouth worked perfectly well.

"You're married?" I gasped.

My mouth snapped close as my eyes moved to his face, for the first time ever, locking with his and not transporting me to 'the table'. I was shocked with myself, my audacity, the uncouth behavior I was exhibiting. But even more shocking was the sudden anguish on his normally positive face. Not even just that, but he tore the receipt from my fingers and grabbed his book, turning his back without a word and rushing away.

What in the world had I done?

"Jeez, Edward, what did you say to him?" Bella asked me moments after his departure.

Oh sure, now she was here. Where was she three minutes ago, when I needed her? Where the hell was she when she was supposed to be the one checking him out, while I _checked him out_?

"I... uh," I stuttered.

"Did one of you finally own up to the fact that you've both been eye-fucking each other for weeks?" she whispered amusedly.

"Bella!" I hissed at her, stomping away. I faltered and stopped rather suddenly, turning right around to march on back to her. She smirked boastfully as she stood there awaiting my return. "What do you mean he eye-fucks me?" I demanded.

She rolled her eyes at me. "Oh, come on, you've had to notice by now he looks at you the same way you look at him."

"No," I contradicted her weakly.

There was no he looked at me the same, no way he imagined me in the ways I thought of him. He was married! Just as he should be. I must have been a fool to not realize sooner. He was the best looking man I'd ever met, and kind, obviously smart. Of course he was married.

"Oh, yes, Edward. He most certainly wants into your pants just as much as you want into his, you're both just too blind to see it."

I elbowed her. "Don't be crass, Isabella."

She snorted and rolled her eyes at me. "Don't be such a prude, Eddie. How long has it been for you, anyway?"

That question was just every color of inappropriate. She, of all people, couldn't ask me that. Bella, you see, wasn't just a friend, but actually an ex-lover. I'd lost my virginity to her soon after meeting her in college and quickly realized that I wasn't exactly into girls. I didn't mind getting my dick wet, but I preferred to wet someone else, if you know what I mean. We remained friends, as the chemistry between us didn't really cause sparks to fly or any awkward problems at all, but she was still my ex. She couldn't ask about my sex life, just as I couldn't ask about hers.

"Don't look at me like that Prudy McPrudington. Have you seriously not gotten any at all since that one night stand however many months ago?"

My cheeks flamed at that and I stared firmly at the toes of my shoes, hoping to avoid her question. But Bella knew my tells, she knew me better than anyone. I hadn't even told her about the one night stand, she'd discerned that one on behavior alone. Just like she now knew I hadn't slept with anyone since that drunken night of mistakes that landed me in the bed of a man named Jasper―who's number was still saved in my phone, for some reason.

"Edward, I love you and everything, but you need to get out more often. You wouldn't be so God-awfully uptight if you had your kinks worked out now and then." She snickered at her own little lame insinuative joke.

"Thank you, so much," I growled at her, glaring over my shoulder at her as I walked away.

As if it already wasn't a bad enough day for me. I needed a damn drink.

– – –

I woke up with a groan.

 _Oh, God, I hurt_.

I made to roll over, to shut my eyes and go right back to sleep, but I suddenly noticed the weight on my chest wasn't from any of my own limbs. Instead, there upon my chest rested the hand of a stranger, possessively palming my left pec. I looked right and there lie a man with a vaguely familiar face and curly, dishwater blonde hair, fast asleep and drooling on my pillows.

 _Not again,_ I whimpered internally, turning my head away. What the hell had I done now?

I wracked my brain, but I couldn't even remember anything after leaving the library last night. But I was obviously hung over, my damn head was killing me, and thinking was making it hurt worse. And there I was in bed with a stranger―well, sort of, we'd met one time before, in very similar circumstances―having no recall of how I ended up with him. Again.

At least this time I was in my own home. It's impossible to explain how utterly humiliating and terrifying it is to wake up in a strange bed, in a strange home, lying next to a stranger, with a strange feeling in your bum, wondering how in the goddamned hell you wound up there. Then, with a hangover, trying to escape without said stranger not noticing, while also trying to gather your clothing, only to realize you still have no idea where you are or how you got there.

I'm not very resourceful. I had a hell of a time getting home after the first instance. Thankfully, I was able to call for a taxi and be picked up based on the name of the apartment complex alone. I still nearly had a panic attack though.

Him being in my home, in my bed, almost seemed worse though. Everything was just as strange as last time, though my bum didn't feel quite so sore and my anxiety wasn't quite so high considering I at least knew where I was. But alas, he was still a strange man. All I really knew of him was his name, Jasper. I'm sure we've talked, but that was the only thing I could remember.

What the hell would happen now? Would he leave? Would I have to ask him to leave? Would I literally have to shove him from my bed and my home?

_Oh, God, this is going to be uncomfortable._

I didn't realize I'd moved at all until he moaned a greeting to me, lightly pinching my nipple before sliding his hand down over my stomach. I desperately tried to pretend to be asleep, struggling to keep my body perfectly relaxed and still, at peace―which I was not!

He chuckled quietly. "Nice try, I know you're awake."

He rolled toward me and I instantly rolled in the opposite direction, which was frankly pretty stupid considering I basically cornered myself against the cold wall while he moved closer.

"Mm," he hummed, spooning me while I tried not to hyperventilate. "You'd think after telling me you love me and then calling me someone else's name I'd get a good morning kiss at least."

 _Shit, I'm so fucked right now_. I had to have called him Carlisle.

_Carlisle. He's married. I freaked him out. What if I never see him again?_

"Listen," he said, planting a kiss on the back of my neck. "I know you were drunk last night." Another kiss. "I knew it when you called me." Another kiss. "I know you probably don't remember much, if anything, that happened either time between us." More kisses. "I know I probably have taken advantage of you, since you were obviously wasted off your ass both times we've been together." More, more, and more kisses. "But I want you to know that you can call me anytime you need me." More kisses, ranging from my shoulders to my hairline. "You're a great fuck, I can't exactly tell you no." Even more kisses, these ones right behind me ear as he nuzzles into my hair to whisper to me. "So anytime, Edward. You have my number. Call me and I'll be glad to come over."

He surprised me by releasing me completely and rolling out of bed. I curled into myself, bringing the blanket up over my head, hoping like hell I'd just disappear. It didn't work because about three minutes later the bed shifted and the blanket was yanked off of me, strong arms rolled me onto my back, and muscular legs were on either side of my torso. I clenched my eyes shut so tight I thought my brain would explode from the pressure.

"You can at least fucking look at me," he said, taking offense at my behavior.

I clenched and released my jaw several times, mulling over the pros and cons of opening my eyes. I finally decided it couldn't hurt, I could show him that small sign of respect.

A small gasp escaped me as I looked at him, really for the first time―not asleep, not a blurred, distant memory. He's... Well, fuck, he's frankly pretty fucking beautiful. Unfortunately, he's not at all what I'm looking for, as he's not an unattainable, older married man.

"I know, I'm pretty fucking attractive after a night of drunken sex," he spoke through a dimpled smirk. He grew more serious then, leaning down and resting his weight on his hands against my biceps, effectively pinning me to the mattress. "Whatever it is that drove you to getting so fucking plowed, and then so fucking plowed," he added pointedly with a chuckle, "it's probably not worth it. Whoever that guy is that's getting to you this way, forget him. And don't be ashamed for getting fucked. You really should try it sober once, it's much better when you can remember the pleasure and not feel just the pain the next morning." He leaned down too quick for me to react, catching me a lingering kiss―that was more awkward than anything for me. Pulling back, he released my arms and slapped my cheek lightly. "Be proud of who you are, Eddie. Thanks for the fuck."

He left after that, rendering me dumbstruck and gobsmacked. Distantly, foggily, I heard the front door open and close, then the sound of a vehicle starting and pulling away. I closed my eyes, praying for more sleep to come, to wake up and have this all been a nightmare. Of course, the moment my eyes closed, my alarm clock blared that it's time for me to get up and get ready for work.

I scrubbed my hand over my face and forced myself to roll out of bed. I flicked the alarm off, ending the horrendous sound that was making my head pound, and then glanced down into my garbage can. I was relieved that there was at least evidence of safely practiced intercourse right at the top, but completely shocked to find not just one condom wrapper, but three used rubbers. Two of them appeared thoroughly used, while another simply looked torn apart. I didn't even want to know...

I pulled the bag from the can, tying it up to discard of the proof immediately. I showered as long as I possibly could given I had to be to work before we opened and painstakingly cleansed myself, trying to rid my body of the night before. I wished my body would forget what my mind couldn't remember, it would make the already doomed day slightly more bearable.

Alas, I had to crunch up a couple of children's aspirin, because for some reason, that was all I had―orange flavored too, yuck. I was running late by the time I was ready to go, but Bella knew how to open up. Mornings were never busy.

It was a fairly small public library, it's much larger counterpart sat more towards the center of town. Bella and I were not long out of college when we were both hired. Both of us are comparatively motivated considering most our age do what I did the night before on a daily basis. Neither of us party hard, we enjoy what we do, and we both are respectful and bright. With the guidance of one old snarly witch of a librarian by the name of Mrs. Cope, Bella and I mostly run the small library on our own.

I knew Bella planned to go back to college after a while to receive a teaching credit to be a school librarian. As for myself, I hadn't a clue. I chose library science because it sounded interesting considering my love of reading and I could afford the two-year course, but now... It's growing tedious. I missed the outdoors and the sun, both of which Seattle offered in only limited doses―unless you liked being sodden and cold under constant cloud cover and drizzle.

I parked rather sloppily next to a trendy black car that I didn't recognize and attempted to rush into work, so not to be late, but the children's aspirin wasn't doing an effective job of easing my troubled behind―or my mind for that matter.

Bella was behind the desk with a knowing smirk when I came rushing through the doors. I hoped my expression said what I was thinking, _save it_. I didn't want to hear what she had to say about my late arrival, obvious disarray, or funny looking waddle.

Movement in my peripherals drew my eyes right and I gasped as I saw one very familiar―wholly unexpected at this hour―man rising to his feet. His face was apologetic, remorseful even, as he stared me down. My feet faltered, dragging to a sudden halt as his lips tightened to a thin line and my eyes moved to his. Harder, and icier blue than I'd ever seen them, he held my gaze. I shuddered at the coldness and wondered if my pupils dilated every time this happened.

Part of my brain thought, _Oh, here we go again. Brace yourself._ While the rest of me embraced the wild, lusting, unfathomable, desirous fantasy.

There we were, on that tainted table, myself face down and bent over as my irate, demanding lover forced his way into my body. Teeth nipped, lips sucked, fingers dug, bones smacked, leaving angry bruises as he marked me as his, solidifying that I was _his_ , and only his. Signifying that I shouldn't have ever doubted I could be anyone more than his. He owned me, now and forever, and the pleasure of that painful knowledge was deliciously good.

Deliriously, I pressed on, wondering what in the world he was doing here, but more concerned about what I had done now to cause such an emotional reaction from him. I continued toward Bella, forcing my eyes forward and only glancing over when the loud thud of a book connecting with the wood tabletop startled me. His feet moved quickly, scuffing deafeningly across the short piled carpet.

Then he moved right past me, displacing the air and sending it billowing all around me. Without thought, I inhaled deeply, drawing in the spice of his aftershave, the earth of his cologne, the musk of his masculinity. And just like that, it was over, he was gone; I was left high, intoxicated as always be his mere presence―or, currently, the alcohol that hadn't yet left my system.

"You're in trouble," Bella lilted in a laughing way, giving me a healthy dose of reality.

"Yes, I know, I'm late," I grumbled back at her, scooting around the corner of the desk to deposit my messenger bag.

Bella chortled in a way that one could only consider as evil. "That you are, Edward, but being late is not what I was talking about." She approached me, surprising me as she wrapped her arms around my neck with intimidating intimacy, drawing herself close. "I'm extremely happy for you to have been bedded, but Mr. Cullen is very disappointed in you, dear boy." She kissed my cheek, then continued to chortle as she practically skipped away.

 _That's_ what that was about? But how could he tell? How could Bella tell for that matter? Am I really walking _that_ funny?

"Don't worry, the only people who would catch on are the ones who watch you closely and the ones who know your pain," Bella appeased, somewhat less laughingly, though she still appeared much too amused for my peace of mind.

Carlisle's table―our table―sat empty the entire day. Everyone avoided it, choosing tables with easier access and overall better location instead. It was the first day in as long as I cared to remember that he didn't come in at his normal time to mindfuck me.

Then there was the issue of his book. It just sat there, forgotten but so entirely at the front of my mind. Did he leave it on purpose? What shall I do with it? Will he come back for it? Will he come back at all? Was he finished? Was he not? Could I touch it?

By the end of the day, I'd grown weary and weak. That book sitting there was all I could think about at all... It was Carlisle truly that was all I could think about at all, but that book was linked to him.

When I was confident that Bella was rather too busy to pay me any mind, I snuck off to see what exactly the book was all about. With overeager, impatient fingers, I grasped the book off the table, then froze, wondering what exactly I was supposed to do now. I'd thought it would come to me after laying my fingers where his had been, but I had no idea where to go from here.

I put the book back down, staring at it speculatively. There was a piece of paper stuck between some pages and I brushed my fingers over it longingly. I couldn't possibly take the bookmark out, that would be unethical, reprehensible from one book lover to another. But I could at least open the book, just to see.

I could, but would I? What if he came back for the book only to discover I had altogether invaded his precious privacy? What if he never came back? The book would have to be checked out of his name, put back on the shelf. What then?

I impulsively gripped the book, flipping it open to the saved page. I gasped at what I found there.

On the small scrap of paper were several jumbles of words. Tiny notes, scribbled words, and among them, my name.

 _Edward_ , wrote nearly reverently, a million times at least on the small leaf of paper.

_Too young. Too beautiful. Too good. I can't. I won't. I want._

Then, _Esme, my beautiful wife. My love. My life. My heart. Taken._

His wife...

I blinked several times, trying to clear my head―and my suddenly misty eyes. He was married, he loved his wife, but he... wanted me. How he even learned my name was unbeknownst to me. Perhaps he'd heard Bella say it―or perhaps the meddling little witch flat out told him.

Underneath the small divulging thoughts was a larger note, I had to squint to make it out with all the other words covering it.

 _Edward_ , it started neatly, _Please forgive me for my behavior. It's very difficult for me to discuss my wife. As painful as it is for me to say it, I am no longer married. Carlisle_ , he finished simply.

Back the truck up, not married? But he still addressed her as his 'wife'. Wait... painful? _Oh, no_.

I leaned my head down and gripped my hair. "Stupid, stupid. What have you done?" I hissed at myself.

Through blurry eyes I looked over the whole note again. ' _Taken_ '. She's dead. His wife was dead, and I'd brought that all back up for him with my one very insensitive question.

_So kind. So lovely. So wrong. So depraved._

_He deserves more. He should find someone to love. He needs more. He is too good for me, worthy of true love._

_I shouldn't want him. I wreak of sin. He shouldn't want me. I do not deserve his innocent love._

_His eyes. His hair. His skin. His face. His lips. His body. His beautiful, hard body._

_Evil. Wrong. Can't._

_Edward. Edward. Edward._

_Esme._

Christ, he was more confused than I was. I couldn't even imagine how this was tormenting him. I couldn't even fathom how he was talking himself out of it. It seemed clear to me that he wanted me just as badly as I wanted him, which was shocking news in itself, and the only thing stopping me was the fact that up until that point I didn't know there was any reciprocation, and my frustrating inability to speak to him.

He was undeniably at a loss, irresolute, and this... _thing_ that was between us was nothing short of complex and chaotic. I think he knew damn well he could have me, it appeared he even wanted me, but it would seem he felt undeserving.

He obviously loved his wife, and _that_ was our biggest problem; he was married to her even in death. I sure didn't disparage him for that. Genuine love, real true love lasts forever, no matter what.

And with that thought, I decided that if he wanted to discover his feelings for me, I would be willing. I would wait for him, if he ever returned. If and when he did, I would talk to him, like an adult, and we could find where this was going.

– – –

I never expected him to return so quickly. It was the next day he showed up and I was more nervous than a hen in a fox den.

But I told myself I would do this, that I could, and I went to him, pulling the chair across from him out and sitting down.

"Hello," he offered quietly.

 _Oh, shit, I can't do this_. My mouth opened and only the tiniest of squeaks came out.

"I know you speak, I've heard you talk quite freely to the friendly brunette. Let's not forget you have also spoke to me before, so out with it," he urged firmly.

Angry, I snapped my eyes up to his, then panicked again, because looking into those pale blue eyes never failed to pitch me into a world unknown where the only thing that mattered was lust.

I quickly moved my eyes back down, demanding my brain to study the wood grains, uncover the pattern of their swirls, and it sort of worked. Only glimpses of teeth and bare skin and pink tongues on intimate parts flashed through my mind, allowing me to quickly picture my grandma Irina in a teeny polka dot bikini, quelling the lustful thoughts.

"You were angry with me," I forced myself to say, passing up pleasantries for fear that I might only have a limited time to speak.

"I wasn't angry with you. I don't even know you, this is only the first time we've really spoke," he replied lightly.

The first part seemed false, but the rest of his statement was right on, of course. It was too easily forgotten that I didn't know him when I spent ninety percent of my time thinking of him. It was easy to forget that all the conversations we've had were imaginary and all the nights―and days―were nothing more than fantasies.

 _Well_ , I supposed, _if I really want to know him, I should be able to look him in the eye_.

Steeling myself, I slowly raised my eyes to his.

It was like being hit by a freight train.

Lust and various states of undress. Pale skin and plush lips. Moaned words and sweat-darkened hair. White teeth and possessive marks. Thrusting hips and screamed orgasms.

"Are you alright?"

No.

I cleared my throat, dropping one hand inconspicuously into my lap. "Yes."

Through my jeans, I squeezed my erection. At first, I didn't do it quite hard enough which simply felt good, but eventually I tightened my grip until I coughed at the pain.

"You're sure you're alright?" he asked.

Staring him squarely in the eye, and hoping I wasn't cringing in pain, I nodded. "I'm fine."

I took several deep breaths, keeping my eyes on his before I spoke again. I wanted to be sure this would last, and for now, it seemed the pain was keeping me here―as much as I enjoyed spinning into the otherworld, I needed to be present and alert for a conversation.

"I'm Edward Masen," I said, reaching my free hand cautiously over the table.

He smiled brightly. "It's wonderful to finally meet you," he replied, placing his palm flat against mine.

If I thought looking into his eyes was a freight train of fantasies, skin on skin contact was an anvil to my head.

The hand in mine tightened, pulling me easily across the table. Soft mouths moved roughly over each other, tongues pressed, teeth bit. Our eyes remained locked as clothing was torn to shreds leaving us bare as we could go. Strong hands gripped my cock, tugging almost painfully until I was guided to the position he wanted me. There was no teasing. Straight to the point, my knees were over his shoulder and his length was drove in deep to my core. Despite there being nothing tender about the way he moved, something in his eyes wouldn't let me look away and I felt...

I tore my eyes from his, jumping up and away from the table, ripping my hand from his. "I'm sorry, excuse me," I gasped, then made no move to go.

Breathing heavy, dazed, I stood there staring at him while he stared blatantly at my crotch. My hand still on my crotch. My hand still choking my beast of an erection to be quite explicit.

 _Oh, shit_!

"I'm sorry," I choked out, finally removing my stupid hand from my stupid crotch and hauling my stupid ass away from that disaster of a scene, darting toward the bathroom.

Safely locked away in a bathroom stall, I clutched my hair in my hands and pulled, silently screaming bloody murder. I didn't think it was actually possible to die of humiliation, but at that moment, it surely felt like it―I hoped for it.

He had to think I was some kind of pervert, rubbing myself under the table like a fucking fiend. Now he surely would never speak to me again. What the hell was wrong with me, and what in fuck's sake was it about him that made me act this way?

I heard the door creak open and I hurriedly pulled my feet up and out of view, inhaling sharply as I heard someone hesitantly approaching, I held the breath.

"Edward?"

I sighed, hearing not the male timbre of Carlisle but Bella's sweet, albeit annoying at the present moment, voice. I didn't vocally respond to her at all, though I did relax slightly at her unwelcome company. At least she wasn't Carlisle.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" she asked softly.

I pretended not to hear her. Knowing Bella, she'd stand there all night.

"Do you need anything?"

I snapped at her, not wanting to listen to this for next God knows how long. "Bella, I have a fucking boner the size of Texas right now, will you go the hell away so I can get rid of it or would you like to come in here and take care of it yourself?"

There was a sharp inhale that I knew damn well wasn't Bella's, and then I saw the butt ass ugly loafers next to Bella's Converses and groaned in frustration. "Shit," I hissed.

Bella snickered. "I, uh, think I'll just get back to the patrons who need me."

The door creaked then slammed and there was complete silence while I again held my breath. Carlisle shifted his weight and the squeak his shoe made was like a fucking air horn in the dead silence. I pretended I didn't hear it.

"Edward," Carlisle said softly, finally breaking the silence. "It's nothing at all to be embarrassed about. I also have a boner the size of Texas right now."

I could have laughed at how awkward he sounded saying that out loud. It wasn't placating in the slightest. It seemed like a lie to me―but just in case, I cataloged those words for later.

"You aren't hurting yourself, are you?" he asked fearfully.

 _What? Where the hell did that come from?_ I made no sound of answer.

"Please answer me," he demanded frantically.

"No, I'm not suicidal," I spat, perhaps too harshly and sardonically. I don't really handle stress well, and honestly, I considered this one of the most stressful days of my life.

He sighed audibly. "But, before, you didn't seem to be treating yourself very kindly. Your knuckles were practically white with how hard..." he trailed off. "You're not hurting yourself that way either, are you?"

"No," I answered blankly.

"Will you please open the door?" he begged. I went back to ignoring him. He asked very nicely multiple times, but I really wanted to be alone in my shame. Unfortunately, our bathroom had cheap flimsy locks and he pulled out a credit card and flipped the lock up.

Hurriedly pushing the door open, he quickly looked me over, then sighed, a great look of relief on his face, and also a terrible pain in his eyes.

I didn't even want to think what that meant.

He shut the bathroom door behind him, locking himself in with me, and I moved my eyes to the floor. He didn't say a word, just stood there, though I could feel his eyes on me.

The silence shattered again when his shoe squeaked as he slowly closed the two steps between us. "I didn't get a chance to introduce myself before, I'm Carlisle Cullen," he said calmly, stretching his hand out to me.

We both damn well knew that I knew exactly who he was. I've been practically stalking him from a distance for months. An hour each day was devoted to simply watching him, and I'd learned a great deal. His name was among the first things, I somehow don't think he was oblivious to that. Instead of painfully awkward moments spent telling me I was fine and normal―though I was clearly not―he seemed to be skipping to a slightly less awkward tactic of 'let's forget that ever happened and start over.'

I couldn't be rude to him when he was showing me respect and great kindness―even if not privacy. I stood up in the cramped space, reaching out the short distance to shake his hand once again.

Skin on fucking skin, it took my breath away.

I tried to pull my hand back, but he wouldn't let me and I made the stupid mistake of looking into his eyes.

It was like tailspinning out of control, like jumping from bridge, like speeding down a dirt road. I didn't really know exactly what was happening, but I wanted it to stop and at the same time, I wanted it to last forever. My head felt like it was going to explode with the onslaught of dirty thoughts running through it.

There was so much, it was hard to focus. Just as soon as my mind would settle on something, it would shift to something entirely different. Always nude, always sexual, sometimes intimate, other times just demanding and selfish. Mouths all over each other, touching everyway, hands used to bind and constrict and caress and pleasure, groin to ass and groin to face and groin to groin and ass to face. It didn't even matter, it was all the same while being entirely different. It was all an angel and his demon, it was all us.

When the vision started to blur, I again tried to pull my hand away, feeling a tug on my arm. His hand remained tight on mine, and the tug persisted, bringing my closer. Through the fog, I swore I saw him staring down at me, leaning in toward me. But no, he wouldn't, he... this... it wasn't real.

The wet and soft I felt on my jaw line wasn't real. The movement of lips and tongue, then teeth and bone, it wasn't real. It was imagined, even though it felt so entirely real. It'd never felt so real, but it couldn't be. The body I felt moving closer to mine wasn't there, it wasn't really his chest pressing against mine.

Letting my eyes fall closed, suddenly it was real. The brush of hot and hard against my hip was real. The palm in mine was real. The lips on my throat were real, as was the hand pressing against my jaw and neck. The bathroom stall that surrounded us was real and the way I felt was real.

Carlisle was sucking on my throat.

 _Oh, God_.

If it was possible for my breathing to grow any heavier, it did in that moment. If there was any way at all for my pants to grow impossibly tighter and more pain full, it happened then. If I could question my sanity any more than I already was, I did so right at that point.

"Stop?" I rasped skeptically.

After one last sweep of his tongue, he pulled back. I didn't really want him to stop, but I had to be sure this was real. I met his eyes, watched him lick his lips, then raised my fingers to my neck to feel the slight moisture he'd left behind. This was definitely real.

I stepped toward him, raising my hand toward his face, and he backed away. Puzzled, I voiced my thoughts. "Kiss me, for real."

Pained eyes diverted from mine, and his palm, which had up until this point been in mine, pulled away. "I can't," he whispered.

Just like that, he was gone.

And oh, it was real. It hurt. It was nothing like my fantasies where slow, timid kisses would have turned sloppy and sure. No hands roamed and pulled clothes off. No angelic man pinned me to a wall―or table―and showed me the meaning of life.

That's what made it real.

– – –

Carlisle didn't exactly disappear from my life, but he made a point of avoiding me from that day on. He still came in daily, but I learned quickly that I was no reason for that. I never had been.

If he caught my eye, he would be sure to look away before I even had the chance to register it. The capricious unrealistic daydreams stopped altogether and oddly, I felt hollow without them. I felt empty without him.

It was frankly fucking stupid because I knew better than to get involved with someone like him. He was complicated. I hated complicated. I wanted easy and straightforward, which he would never be. I wanted what he couldn't offer me, I wanted significant and unashamed, like my fantasies.

That was why I called Jasper. It was why we went on a date. It was why I decided that I didn't like easy all that much, because simplicity lacked a certain importance. But I didn't decide that after dinner, I didn't even decide that after drinks, I didn't decide that after he took my hand and asked to kiss me. I let him kiss me, and I let myself enjoy it, but it wasn't enough. It was too easy. But I didn't decide that even after we fumbled into my house or after we fumbled out of clothes or even after we made it to the bed and his fingers fumbled their way inside of my body.

No, I decided after he was already poised to enter me. I decided when he tenderly pressed forward and started to enter me, kissing my slight pain away. I decided after I refused to look at him and kiss him back as he slowly moved in me. But I didn't say anything. At least not until my mind conjured images of another man.

Jasper stopped moving when that man's name slipped through my lips. I didn't apologize, I didn't try to take it back. Jasper pulled out of me, and I didn't regret it.

I didn't regret it until I was face down on the bed, roughly being taken from behind, but I had no apologies and I wouldn't take it back because it was exactly what I deserved. Jasper made no move to make sure I enjoyed myself, nor did I, and as soon as he was finished, he dressed and left. Thanking me for the fuck, though he spit it out like foul-tasting drink.

I didn't sleep at all, knowing he'd left me exactly the same as I'd made him feel. Used. It was nothing less than exactly what I had coming to me.

Bella said nothing to me as I walked into the library looking like hell. A shower couldn't fix what was obviously broken in me. I went through my day silently, helping those who dared to even speak to me. There wasn't many. Mostly just oblivious old ladies browsing the erotica section, unable to reach the dirtiest books on the top shelf and needing the assistance of a tall, fit young lad.

It wasn't even remotely endearing.

I felt like a zombie carrying smutty literature to the front desk for perverted grandmas. I knew exactly what time it was when I made my way back toward the checkout desk with the latest finds of filth in written form, that's why I made the long trip around and didn't spare a glance where I knew _he_ would be. I could feel his eyes, burning like they always did, only today I felt transparent and weak and the burn physically hurt.

I wished I hadn't caught his movement from the corner of my eye and I wished I wouldn't have felt disappointment when he gathered his things together to leave, early. I pretended not to notice, not my misplaced feelings or the fact that he was leaving. He had to be checked out before he could leave and frantically, I searched the library for Bella. She was no where in sight.

Which meant that after I was finished scanning through implicating titles of cheap porn for old Mrs. Caius, I'd have to deal with _him_.

I moved as slow as I possibly could, bagging the precious books of throbbing members and quivering centers carefully.

"Oh, sweet child, I don't know if I could possibly carry all of these books by myself," she drawled, eying me in a wholly inappropriate way.

Four paperbacks sure are heavy when loaded with cliché euphemisms. I would gladly carry them for her. _He_ would just have to wait.

But of course, Bella appeared out of thin air the moment I made to swing the bag off the counter.

"I got this," she said, fixing me with a firm look.

"But..." stuttered Mrs. Caius, staring longingly at me. Begrudgingly, she followed Bella, who I glared at spitefully.

She just smiled.

Evil bitch.

"Are you really that desperate to be away from me?" Carlisle asked.

"No," I lied flatly, reaching for his book to scan it.

He pulled it out of my reach. "Can we please talk?"

"No," I said, again flatly, keeping my hand outstretched for his book.

"Are you seeing someone?" he asked, nearly as blankly as my replies.

"No."

"Then who did this to you?" he demanded angrily.

This? Didn't he know? He did it. He did it without even trying. But somehow, I knew he didn't quite understand that the empty void that was me today was how I'd felt since he told me he _couldn't_. I just hadn't let it show until now. And the bite mark on my neck and stutter in my step told a different story completely.

"It doesn't matter," I told him easily. "Let me get that checked out and you can be on your way."

"No," he said firmly. "I'm not leaving until you talk to me."

"It's not your problem," I said stiffly, losing my patience, my unfeeling demeanor. "You made it quite clear we don't know each other. You have no reason to care. So please." I stared firmly at his book, motioning for him to hand it over.

"I have every reason to care. I'm sorry if you feel I rejected you, I didn't mean to make you feel unwanted."

"Oh, please," I snapped, slamming my hands down on the counter. "I can handle the fucking rejection, that's not what bothered me. It was the fact that you wouldn't even fucking speak to me after you dismissed me, you wouldn't even look at me."

"I'm sorry," he replied simply. "I didn't mean―"

"Go fuck yourself," I cut him off, not wanting to hear how he never wanted to hurt me. It was pure fucking bullshit.

Since he didn't really seem to want to check out anyway, I walked away from the counter, moving to the private room usually used for book club meetings and shit like that. I needed to get myself under control, I needed to be away from him.

I barely registered that the door didn't slam the way I'd intended it to, but instead clicked quietly into place. I couldn't think straight enough to realize he'd followed me. I didn't even think before I threw myself into a chair, then gasped out in pain, startling myself back into the present moment.

"Who did this to you?" Carlisle demanded, crossing the room to stand in front of me.

"You did this to me," I muttered with my hands over my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose in hopes of easing the pound in my head.

"I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry, but that's not what I'm asking. I want to know who did _this_ to you, I want to know who he was," he ordered pointedly.

"A friend," I offered, though it wasn't any of his damn business.

"A friend wouldn't hurt you like this."

"I hurt him first."

Carlisle grabbed my shoulders, forcing me back. Outraged, I met his eyes. "I don't care if you hurt him first, it doesn't make it okay for him to have hurt you this way. Rape is not―"

"I didn't fucking get raped," I cried, shoving him away from me, standing up to my fullest height in hopes of not feeling so utterly fucking small under his scrutinizing stare. "I asked for this. I never once said no and it was exactly what I deserved."

"You don't deserved to be hurt―"

"You fucking hurt me!" I yelled at him incredulously. I shoved his chest, pushing him away from me. "You did this to me. It was exactly what I deserved for saying your name, for wishing he was you. You hurt me and I hurt him, I got exactly what I should have."

"You're wrong. I'm the one who deserves the pain you bear, this is all my fault."

"You deserve nothing," I hissed at him, shoving him back again, barely noticing the way I jerked forward as he stumbled back, putting no distance between us at all. "You don't deserve me."

"I know. I know I don't. You're too―"

"Young," I finished for him, spitting the word like a curse. "I'm too young for you, and too good, and too fucking special and perfect. I read your note when you left the book behind, I know exactly how you feel."

His eyes widened slightly, not expecting that, then pain flashed through them.

"I know that too," I said, somewhat more softly. "And I understand _that_ reason. But that is the only reason you have for not being with me."

My chest heaving, I finally noticed that he was pulling me closer to him. "I have many reasons. You deserve better than me, you deserve more."

"Your feelings for me lie strictly behind your belt, nothing else should matter to you when all you want is a fuck."

Anger, so cold and hard, turned those pale eyes to ice. "Do not tell me how I feel, you don't know―"

"Don't tell me what I deserve, you don't know!" I countered, cutting him off.

A sound of pure rage came from between his lips before they were smashed to mine. My head hit the wall with a resounding thud and I hissed into his mouth as his tongue dove in, urging and gaining his dominance. It lasted only a few short breaths before his lips were gone, his forehead against mine. A shaking hand snaked around the back of my neck, pinching, hurting.

"Is this what you want? Is this what you think you deserve? This isn't what I want to give you, Edward, you do not deserve my anger."

I didn't have a chance to answer as the painful fingers digging into my neck disappeared and reappeared again against my lower back. Gentle, tickling touches worked beneath my shirt and under the waistband of my jeans, sliding back and forth, just over the top of my butt. Tender lips pressed apologetic kisses over the sore bruise on my neck and trailed down to my shoulder, up to my ear, and everywhere between until he stopped kissing at my chin, not meeting my lips.

"Or is this what you want?" he asked. "This is what I want for you. You should be worshiped and cherished... loved."

"I want you either way," I divulged honestly.

His eyes slid closed, disappointedly, as he sighed. "I'm not any good for you, I think that's been made abundantly clear."

"You think I don't know that?" I asked, shaking my head. "I'm not a boy, Carlisle. I'm not so stupid that I don't know you can't feel for me the way I feel for you. That doesn't change anything."

"It's wrong," he muttered.

"What's wrong?"

"This. Us. I shouldn't do this, but I think it's too late."

"Does it feel wrong?"

"When I'm close to you, no. When I think about it, yes," he answered, sliding his lids back to look at me directly.

"Then don't think about it," I urged.

He sighed, shaking his head at me. I thought he was going to speak or break away from me, but instead he kissed me. He really kissed me, with feeling and intensity and without anger. Indisputably, the kiss was tender and sweet, but the undertone of uncertainty and trepidation spoke levels.

Even knowing he didn't _really_ want this, I wrapped my fingers into his hair, because even if it wasn't as real for him, it was real for me, and I didn't care. He wanted me enough to kiss me this way, and for now, that was enough. I truthfully did want him any way I could have him, hurt be damned. His pull over me wasn't something I was going to give up because I was too afraid. I had to try.

His kiss slowed, and he broke from my mouth breathlessly, pressing his lips determinedly over my cheeks and jaw. "Tell me what you want," he whispered imploringly. "I'll give you anything you want. Within reason," he added pulling back to meet my eyes. "I think you understand that there are certain things that I _cannot_ give."

I nodded my head solemnly. I understood, perfectly. Well, perhaps not, but I think I knew what he meant. "What do you want, exactly?" I hedged to ask, realizing I was more confused than I really wanted to be.

"It doesn't matter what I want," he said firmly, eyes growing cold again.

"Then I can't do this," I decided, pushing him back from me.

But he clung on. "What do you mean?"

Frustrated, I closed my eyes and resigned myself against the wall, pinching my nose in hopes of being able to sort through my thoughts. "I mean that if you think what I want is the only thing that matters, then we can't do this."

"But why?" he stuttered out. "Why is that important to you at all? It shouldn't matter what I want."

I could have slapped him across the face for that. "I thought it was clear that _my_ feelings weren't strictly in my pants," I snapped at him angrily. "I don't know what kind of fucked up masochistic complex you have, but I'm not _that_ type of man. I'm not interested in doing something that you aren't going to enjoy. It matters to me what you want, and if that's nothing, then it will be nothing. I won't be with you in anyway if you don't want me."

"What the hell gave you the impression that I didn't want you?" he asked confusedly. Pointedly, he tilted his hips forward, pressing the full length of his arousal against my hip before pulling it away again. "I don't have words for how much I want you, Edward, just let that be enough."

"Why did you get angry when I suggested all you were interested in was a fuck? Do you want more?" I demanded to know.

He groaned in a pained way, shielding his pain from me as his eyes again grew agonized. "It doesn't _matter_ what I want, Edward, because I can't have it."

I think I understood that, at least. He wanted his wife back, but that wasn't in the playing cards. The question was still whether he wanted a fuck or not, or more than one... I couldn't understand what the hell he was thinking.

"I want more than a fuck buddy, but it's not entirely possible for me," he said softly, while I continuously tried to make sense of his words and actions. "I want to give you what you want, Edward, whatever it is. That's what I want. But again, be reasonable."

Fine. "I want a date," I told him, raising my chin.

He nodded, surprising me completely. "I'll give you as many dates as you want, wherever you want. I'll buy you anything you want, and if it's what you desire, I'll treat you respectfully and not kiss you again until you ask for it."

All I heard was his agreement to the date, and an offer to buy me off. "I don't want your fucking money," I spat, shoving him away.

He stumbled back, a shocked look on his face. He immediately came right back to me, trying to hold on to me again while I stubbornly pushed him away each time. "I'll only treat you like a whore if that's what you want," he said angrily, finally giving up his pursuit to be closer to me. Of course, then I wanted him back. I wasn't shy about reaching out and pulling him back to me either. "I didn't mean I wanted to pay you to spend time with me, though if that is what it'll take, I'll do that. All I meant is that dating requires a certain level of gifting. Money is no issue, I'll buy you any frivolous trinket you want," he explained against my jaw, nuzzling and kissing between words.

"That makes little to no sense to me," I admitted.

"What?" he asked, sucking a tender spot beneath my ear, making the little sense in my brain disappear completely.

"Would you stop?" I gasped, jerking away.

"Is that what you want?" he asked huskily.

"No," I divulged, "but I can't fucking think with you sucking on my neck."

"Alight," he allowed, forgoing the necking to look into my eyes instead.

That scattered my brain worse. I ducked my head and closed my eyes, trying like hell to remember what I wanted to ask him, and to stop thinking about his lips and tongue traveling lower down my body. "Hey," he urged, stroking my jaw with his thumb. "Don't clam up on me again. I'm sorry if I'm pushing you, you're impossible for me to resist."

A disbelieving laugh burst out of my mouth before I could stop it and he met my eyes questioningly. "Why would you want to buy me things when we won't really be dating?" I asked soberly.

"Won't really be dating?" he returned confusedly. "What does that mean?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "I'm not going to fool myself into believing that you really want to date me, Carlisle. It's little more than an inconvenience to you."

He shuddered lightly then closed his eyes and shook his head. "You're a fool."

"Well, fuck you very much," I grumbled, feeling the urge to shove him away again. Knowing that I'd just want to feel his warmth against me again when he was gone though, I withheld the impulse.

"So, if I'm understanding your thoughts correctly, you believe that I only want to take you on dates, dates that will be inconveniencing to me, in hopes of wooing you out of your pants so I can fuck and duck."

"More or less," I replied, surprised he knew the saying 'fuck and duck'. I guess he really wasn't _that_ old.

"What's more?" he asked.

Rolling my eyes again, I explained, "You've made it abundantly clear that the sex won't be more than a one time thing. I want more than one night with you, so..." I trailed off self-consciously, looking toward the door.

"I never said the sex would be a one time thing," he said softly. "To be completely honest, I don't even know if I'll be able to have sex with you."

"What?" I deadpanned.

He frowned. "I don't know if I'll be able to have sex with you," he repeated. He needed not have, it was already resounding through my brain like a faulty vinyl. "You have to understand, Edward, this is hard for me."

"This is hard for me too," I gasped back at him.

"I don't think it's hard for you in the same way," he said with a smirk, brushing his thigh over my steely erection. "Though, it is hard for me that way too."

"You're an asshole."

"Get used to it," he replied simply. "Look," he continued, "I want the dates. I'm frankly relieved that you want them too, not only because that means this is more than just a fuck for you too, but because I think I need time to ease myself into this. I don't know what I can and can't do. I don't know what will be too much. It's probably a mistake. No, it is a mistake, I'm positive that I'm going to hurt you and I know this is wrong, but I still want to try. I have to try, with you."

"I'm an experiment for you then?" I asked, surprisingly more curious about the answer than angry.

"Not exactly. Though if it doesn't work, I never plan to try again," he replied sadly.

"Have you ever been with another man before?" I asked, choosing to ignore the dread his previous statement put in my stomach.

"Yes, Edward, but it was a long time ago."

I took that to mean before his wife, especially considering the new sadness in him. I didn't know what to make of it, what to make of him. I needed to get away from him and clear my head to think all of this through.

"I have to get back to work. I've left Bella alone out there for too long," I told him regretfully.

He nodded, seemingly struggling to make his hands let me go as much as I was. "I'll understand if your mind has changed. I actually hope that you change your mind."

"No you don't," I called him out.

He smiled miserably. "No, not really."

"Are you always going to be this depressing?" I asked cautiously.

To my relief, he chuckled. "No, I'm sure that I can do more than depress you."

"Promises, promises," I joked easily.

He leaned in, catching me in a surprisingly convincing kiss. If he kissed me like that all the time, he would definitely be doing more than depressing me. The problem was that his kiss made me hopeful, it was far too promising.

"Get back to work, Library Boy," he teased, tugging my disheveled shirt straight. "Shouldn't you be wearing a tie for this profession?"

I didn't make it a point to tell him I didn't even own a tie. After seeing the longing look in his eyes, though, I decided I needed to go shopping.

"Do you want my phone number?" I asked timidly, not sure exactly what to do now.

"Yes," he said, producing his cell phone and pushing it into my hand.

I typed in my cell number, but when I went to save it, it said there was already an 'Edward' saved in his contacts. "Ur, um, I can't save the number, you already have an Edward," I told him ruefully.

"I have no other Edwards," he assured, taking his phone back and kissing me before stating, "There, you see, the lone original Edward, just as you should be."

"Doesn't mean you don't have Johns and Jacobs," I mumbled, trying to sound like I was joking, but I was worried I would just end up being one of his many heartbroken toys.

"I have no Johns or Jacobs, or Jingleheimer Schmidts for that matter," he replied.

I chuckled in spite of myself, remembering the rhyme from my childhood. But then I sighed, still concerned.

"Don't you fret, I have no one else. There's been no one else," he admitted.

"Ever?" I asked.

He nodded somberly.

"Why me? What is special about me? How long has it been?" I questioned him.

He sighed, obvious pain and sadness again plain as day all over his face. "These aren't questions for here and now, Edward, you have to get back to work." At my expression, he softened. "I will tell you, believe me, I will, but just... not now. When we have more time, I promise. To be blunt, I don't know why you haven't shut me up yet, you could have done so quite effectively," he said, deliberately stroking one lone, teasing finger over my length.

I hissed, pushing my hips forward for more pressure, but his hand disappeared.

"You're different than I―" I cut him off, forcing him into a deep kiss, and he pulled back with a rumbling chuckle. "Not exactly what I meant about shutting me up."

"Shut up," I instructed.

"Also not what I meant."

I rolled my eyes and kissed him again. Pulling back, I whispered, "I know what you meant, but I'm not putting my cock in your mouth yet, you're just going to have to wait."

My eyes went wide as he lunged for me, a growl coming from his mouth as he shoved me back against the wall I'd just barely stepped away from. His hips pressed so hard to mine that it hurt. His hips pressed so hard to mine, I think my feet actually left the ground momentarily.

I loved this side of him. I loved watching him lose control of himself, seeing him act on impulse. He didn't strike me as the type of guy who let loose very often, and feeling the wild way he shoved me hard against the wall, all feral sounds as he rubbed his hard dick against mine...

I was going to fucking cum in my pants if he didn't stop.

Before I could even warn him or tell him to stop, he was off of me, panting hard and placing kisses like apologies all over my throat. Chaste, light and fluttery, like butterfly wings, he continued to kiss until I realized that we'd been locked away in here for well over an hour.

"I need to go," I said, pushing him back gently.

"I'm sorry," he replied softly.

"You need to stop apologizing," I sighed, straightening my clothes, then cursed when I spotted the wet stain on the front of my jeans.

Carlisle stared and stared until my cock twitched under his heated gaze, no doubt making the stain a little bit bigger, and he looked away. Amused eyes met mine and I glared. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Fuck you," I grumbled, trying to hide the stain and my erection by tugging my shirt down, but it didn't work.

"Fuck me?" he asked laughingly.

"I plan to," I said cheekily, "but if I'm not letting you suck my dick yet, you better believe you're not getting fucked yet either. Call me," I finished, yanking the door open before he could see the heat that had crept into my cheeks.

 _Stop blushing, magically lose your boner and pre-cum stain, and everything will be fine_.

Unfortunately, none of the above happened. As I moved back behind the counter, Bella ambushed.

She whipped me around to face her and I blushed darker as she blatantly stared at my groin. I cleared my throat and she glared up at me. "What the hell happened? I heard yelling but no sex sounds. Why don't you look thoroughly fucked? And why do you still have a boner after being in there so long?"

"Well, Bella, darling, my rectum is―"

"Never mind," she cut me off, flailing her hands and grimacing.

 _Works like a charm_.

I smirked and looked over my shoulder to be sure Carlisle hadn't heard any of that. I sighed knowing he hadn't as he was still in the private meeting room, hopefully still recovering from my outburst. I can't believe I said that! My fleeting bravery had ran the fuck away because when he finally came out, meeting my eyes, I looked away.

Bella sighed. "Am I going to have to continue to be the one who takes care of him?"

"No," I whisper-yelled at her. "You may not check him out either."

She rolled her eyes―a habit she had picked up from me―at me and walked away, grumbling―another habit she had picked up from me. Bella really needed a new hobby, she copied me too much.

"You okay?" Carlisle asked, having made it back to the circulation desk.

I glanced up at him, then down at his book again. I nodded my head in answer, though I wasn't positive that I really was okay. I had a lot of shit to think about.

"You're being quiet again," he pointed out gently. He pushed his book across the counter, dropping his hand from the book onto mine. He soothingly stroked along my hand, fingers tracing metacarpals, fingertips rubbing knuckles, fingers lightly pressing between mine. "I don't want to tell you not to be afraid, because it's probably good that you are, but I want you to know that I do care about you, that's why I want you to tell me no."

"You already know how I feel," I told him determinedly.

He sighed and nodded. "I do. But it will always be your choice. If you say stop, I will stop, no matter what."

He squeezed my hand then pulled it away, allowing me to check out his book. "Perhaps it is you who should have my number, so you can call me when you're ready," Carlisle suggested when I was handing him his checkout slip.

"You can call at anytime, it's fine."

"What if I call tonight?" he asked.

"That's fine. I'll answer."

"All the same, Edward, I think I should give you my number so you can call if you need anything."

I sighed, pulling my phone out of my pocket, punching the numbers in as he gave them to me.

"I'll see you on Monday then," he said. Quickly, he added, "Unless you want to see me sooner?"

"I always want to see you," I muttered embarrassedly, feeling my cheeks flame. "But I think maybe we should have a few days to think, in case you want to change your mind."

"I won't change my mind," he said, reaching back over the counter to squeeze my hand again. "You are more than welcome too though."

I rolled my eyes and huffed, really meeting his eyes for the first time since we'd been alone. He chuckled, keeping his hand on mine.

"May I kiss you?"

I swallowed nervously but nodded my consent.

"Perhaps it's not the best idea, this is your place of business after all."

I huffed and rolled my eyes at him again. "It's fine, Bella and her boyfriend have practically fucked in here. No one is really here right now anyway."

He smiled and leaned closer to me over the counter. "You're sure?"

"Positive," I replied hurriedly, placing my other palm flat against the counter as I leaned to meet him.

His hand had remained on mine and the other hand quickly joined, resting his palms against the tops of mine. He hesitated slightly before closing the distance between us. The kiss was light and soft, chaste and very tender. Warmth spread through my chest as his lips brushed over mine and I relaxed instantly, feeling oddly at peace.

Then Bella squealed and clapped her hands and we both stiffened, remembering we were in public. Stupid Bella, the evil little wench.

"I should go," Carlisle said, his warm breath still close enough to make my lips tingle. He'd stayed far over his usual time, he probably had things to do. I wish he'd turn into a wall―or table―decoration for me to permanently ogle.

I nodded my head, reluctant to pull away and watch him leave, but at the same time, wanting to be able to think clearly―which I wasn't capable of doing with him around.

"I'll see you on Monday, then?" he asked.

I chuckled, again nodding. "I'll be here."

"You can call, if you want to," he assured me.

"And you can call me too."

"I'm stalling," he voiced aloud.

I couldn't help but smile. "For what it's worth, I would like you to stay, but we're closing soon, and you probably should go."

"I know."

He made no move to leave, so I pushed up on my toes, kissing him again. He hummed his approval, titling his head to the side slightly while he pushed forward. Thankfully, Bella didn't fucking go all girly-girl on us and squeal again, but I could still feel her eyes and it was really unnerving. Parting my lips for one last direct hit of Carlisle, tasting him with my tongue, feeling him in my mouth, on my mind, I finally decided he really had to go.

I pulled back and turned away, pretending to be busy with the cart of books behind the counter. He groaned, "Tease," quietly, and that I really couldn't help but smile at.

I heard him gather his things, and when the door chimed, I glanced over my shoulder, finding him doing the same. He smiled, and I returned it, meeting his eyes one last time before he departed. A flurry of fantasies assaulting my brain was what he left me with.

I stayed in the entire weekend, simply trying to clear my head and make a decision. I knew this wouldn't be good for me, Carlisle wouldn't be good for me, because he was right. In the end, I was probably going to end up hurt. But I decided I didn't care. Said and done, I didn't think I'd regret a minute I spent with him. If he wanted to try, then we would try. There wouldn't be any harm in just getting to know him. If things went further, then lucky me.

He didn't call that weekend and I was greatly relieved for that. I needed the time to think, the space to work out exactly what I was getting myself into. I worried though that he changed his mind or maybe thought that I changed my mind. I considered changing my mind, a lot, but then I would remember how it felt to be around him and I couldn't give that up. Even if I really didn't know what would happen, what we'd become, what in the hell I was doing, where it would go, or if he'd already changed his mind, I decided this was something I just had to do.

So I did it.

The first couple 'dates' were kind of awkward. We didn't really know each other yet, but I suppose that's the whole point of dating, which I honestly haven't done a whole lot of. I dated Bella a little bit, and Garrett―who took my _real_ virginity―but other than that... I mostly just went to clubs where my name and what I was interested in that didn't relate to sex wasn't of anyone's interest. Sometimes what I was interested in relating to sex wasn't even of anyone's interest. But I preferred not having to talk about myself, which Carlisle practically forced me to do. Then I'd get nervous and start rambling and catch him smiling and run off to try to hide in the bathroom, but that doesn't work when you date someone of the same sex.

He brought me out of my fucking shell in a big way though, and I don't know that I necessarily liked it. I think it gave him more power over me, and he already had a lot of power over me. I started to trust him and to develop more feelings that I already had, and when I was a bit tipsy one night, I made the mistake of telling him that. He didn't react well. He went on some big rant about not trusting him, because I shouldn't, he was a bad man and blah blah, I don't really remember everything, I was kind of drunk. I also think that was the first night I tried to get into his pants and the fucker rejected me because I couldn't walk straight. I'm positive I was pretty persuasive because he agreed to tuck me into bed, only the tucking in actually ended up being just a tucking in. The most substantial part of the night, the thing I remember most, is the way he looked at me before he left, pity and anger...

Despite the fact that he could be a little self-degrading, I learned that he was mostly a wonderful man. He was kind and generous and charming and funny, all the more reason for my feelings to get stronger. But I couldn't say anything because it pissed him off when I brought it up, and they weren't reciprocated, which was a major blow to the gut. I had no idea what we were, and every time I tried to talk to him about it, he'd shut down. Eventually, I just stopped talking about it, he didn't want to know how I felt, he didn't want to label us, hell, he probably didn't even really want me. He was probably just lonely, and I was just an easy form of entertainment. Something to pass the time, someone to take his mind off of things. No one, really.

Then I started to shut down again, reverting to not talking at all because I couldn't say what I really wanted to, what I felt. He noticed of course, he seemed to notice everything. I'd been to his house before, but it felt different when neither of us were talking to each other, barely looking at each other. I just wanted to go home. Instead, he took me to his place, and I thought that he was just going to get it over with. The sexual tension between us up until that point had been ridiculous and frustrating and we fucking made out all the damn time, which didn't help.

But he sat me down on his couch, and he made me spill it. It was like taking a knife to my abdomen, my guts just poured right out of me. He was gentle and caring and sweet, and it didn't fucking help, because then the one fucking thing I was trying to hold back came tumbling out.

"I'm falling in love with you," I whispered into his neck as he held me close.

I hadn't used the 'L' word to describe how I felt for him, saying that I cared and that he meant a lot to me had been enough. But it was the truth, I was falling in love with him, and I couldn't pretend I wasn't.

He went statue still, seemingly not even moving to breathe. I couldn't regret having said it, I needed him to understand.

I pulled out of his embrace and found his eyes closed, his face blank. "I'm falling in love with you," I repeated. "I know you can't, or don't want to, return the feeling, I'm not telling you to hear it back, because I know I won't. It doesn't change how I feel. So, I said it, you can tell me to leave or whatever it is you want now."

He remained quiet and still for longer than I could really stand, so I moved to get up, but he grabbed onto me, stopping me. The amount of emotion in his eyes was staggering, and wholly frightening. I'd never seen such conflict in all of my life.

"Do you think that I want you to leave?" he asked softly.

"I don't know what you want, Carlisle, that's the problem," I replied, twisting my wrist in his hand to clasp our fingers together.

"You were honest with me, Edward, I would never ask you to leave because of that."

"No, you wouldn't ask me to leave, Carlisle, you're too selfless. But if it's what you want, then I think it would be better if that's what happened."

He shook his head once minutely, but he couldn't seem to verbally force the words out of his mouth.

That was truly what was the issue between us. Carlisle didn't know what he wanted. I think half of him was trying to push me away and hoping that I'd never come back, that half wanted to be alone in its misery. But the rest of him wanted me, it's what caused him to cling to me in moments like this where I tried to figure out which part of him was more powerful. But I had no idea, and he had no idea.

I could see it in his eyes that he was feeling something close to what I was, but there were so many other feelings there with it. He was scared and hurt and lonely, angry and bitter and lost, but at the same time happy and relieved and in love... But mostly it was just the fear and the anger that showed through.

I thought it was the end of the road, we either drove off the cliff together or we turned around and never looked back.

And it was his choice.

So I waited.

And I waited.

And waited some more.

His hand in mine never moved and it was two long hours that we sat in silence next to each other on the couch. I had to let him choose, take it all the way or break it off completely.

I didn't think his silence was a good thing.

His voice caused me to startle when he finally spoke, snapping me from my thoughts.

"I promised you that I would try," he said.

It didn't feel like enough, but I accepted it and let him lead me to his bedroom. He stopped next to the bed and we stood awkwardly for a moment before Carlisle started to toe his shoes off. I took a deep breath, swallowed down my unease, and followed suit, moving to unbutton my pants once my shoes and socks were off.

Carlisle's hand stopped mine, and he shook his head. Confused, I dropped my hands and he caught them in his own, raising them to his face, kissing my palms while he looked into my eyes―a battle raging in his. Slowly, he let my hands fall back down to my sides and he took a step towards me. I remained still, letting him breach the gap. He did, closing the distance between us, his arms winding tight around my neck as every inch of his body pushed flush against mine.

"I want to make love to you," he whispered.

My heart skipped a beat, hearing that word.

"I want to show you how I feel for you," he continued.

I wrapped my arms around his waist, securing him to me and I felt his eyelashes flutter against my cheek. Our chests heaved together, breaths ragged in each other's ear, nerves, tension, fear, need. His lips moved to mine, kissing until my lips were sore and needy sounds were coming from my throat. We fell to the bed together, his lips still moving over mine. It felt like hours passed as he kissed me, holding me but somehow never really touching me the way I needed him to.

I was painfully ready, I didn't know how much more I could take. Every pass of his tongue over mine, every press of lips, every brush of teeth was slowly killing me. It'd been weeks since we started this, I couldn't keep rubbing it out when he turned me on with his talented mouth, I needed him.

As my sounds grew more and more frustrated, my hips started to twist in search of anything to gain friction, to relieve some of the unbearable pressure. When I finally found his thigh, I greedily wrapped my legs around it and shamelessly grinded against it, grunting my pleasure into his mouth.

Carlisle shoved me off, pushing me onto my back and I groaned out my disappointment. He chuckled at me, swinging his leg over my hips, shocking me as he straddled my hips. He didn't touch though, no, he just continued to fucking tease, his ass just far enough away that I couldn't get my desired friction. I remained still as he started to unbutton my shirt. It was a fucking challenge to say the least, he moved so goddamn slow.

Finally when my shirt was open, he touched me again, cool fingers on bare heated skin. Hovering over my thighs, he brought me up into a sitting position, slipping my shirt off my arms before laying me back down again. His hands moved torturously slow over my shoulders, then my chest, just barely brushing over my nipples before continuing further. He traced my ribs one by one, then over my flat stomach and to my bellybutton. My hips jerked as he hands went further, fingertips tickling over the sensitive skin leading to my pants. I was panting by the time he was finished mapping out my hips, but then he started all over again, slowly making his way back up. I forced my eyelids shut and clamped my jaw, trying to quell the urge to beg.

As his fingers brushed across my nipples, my hips jerked again and then again as he circled, and when he pinched, I couldn't control myself. I gripped his hips, forcing him down as I arched my hips up. My moans of relief filled the air around us as I rubbed my denim-confined erection against the thinly covered flesh of his ass. He sat down on me hard, forcing me down against the bed and rocked his hips once before pulling away again.

I nearly screamed in frustration and he chuckled at my expression when I looked up at him. "Let me take care of you," he murmured, leaning in to kiss me again.

I whimpered and panted as he started to kiss lower, taking forever just to make it to my nipples, then spending not nearly enough time there as he slowly made his way further down. I groaned in defeat as his tongue dipped into my bellybutton, then dragged over to my left hip, then to my fucking bellybutton again, then to my other hip, and fucking back to my bellybutton.

I groaned out loudly as his tongue swirled and flicked and teased, and I gripped my hair in my hands and pulled, losing my fucking mind. "Are you trying to kill me?" I wondered.

He pinched at the skin just below my bellybutton with his teeth and I jerked reflexively, my erection thrusting hard against his chin. He sighed and moved his mouth right where I wanted it, sort of. Through the fabric of my jeans, I could feel the heat of his mouth as he blew hot damp breath onto me. The neediest sound I'd ever heard came out of my mouth. He simply blew more hot hair.

"Please," I practically screamed. "I can't fucking take it, please, Carlisle," I begged.

His sat up and away from me, and I wanted to cry, but then his hands were on my fly. I removed my hands from my hair and helped him shove my jeans and underwear off my legs. My pants just barely hit the floor when Carlisle's hand encircled the base of my length. I tried to stifle my reaction, but I couldn't. My heels dug into the mattress hard, raising my ass into the air, and my hands fisted his hair, bringing him down as I openly begged him to suck my cock.

His mouth enveloped me in heat and wet and I cried my approval as a shiver of pleasure tore me to pieces. His soft mouth took half of me while he stroked the other half with a suddenly wet fist. I growled and yelled and moaned and time was inconsequential when something felt this good. I don't know if it was hours or seconds that he had me under him, I didn't care, but however long it was, I couldn't hold back, and I didn't want to. All I could feel or think about was the soft and warmth and wet as it moved over me.

I bellowed my warning, and he took it in stride, increasing the speed of his hand twisting and tugging and the force of his lips holding, tongue curling, cheeks hollowing, throat gripping. He knowingly pulled my orgasm straight out of my body through my cock and swallowed down every last drop for his effort.

I collapsed, staggered and shuddering, against the bed while Carlisle released me from his mouth and hand, pressing both his face and his palm into the concaves at my hips. My fingers were still tightly gripping his hair, and though I knew I should let him go, I didn't want to. I wasn't ready to let go, I wasn't finished yet.

I tugged on his hair until his mouth was at mine and I kissed him deeply, tasting the salt of my release on his talented tongue. I didn't give him a chance to protest before I shoved him onto his back and jumped on top of him. He didn't complain, but instead massaged my thighs as I removed his shirt, then hurriedly yanked his pants off. I didn't have his patience, I couldn't tease him like he did to me. Instead I went right where I needed to be and took everything that I could of his large cock.

I wasn't exactly practiced at the whole oral sex thing, but I tried my hardest and I could control my urge to gag fairly well, which aided me in getting him at least partway into my throat. He lightly rubbed at my face and scalp with his fingers, caressing me but never guiding me.

From my place at his cock, I surveyed his body, incredibly pleased with what I found. His torso and arms were toned, and though I knew he was physically fit as we'd jogged together before, I wasn't aware just how fit he was. Despite being thirty-eight years old, his body was still almost youthful with hard, taut lines of muscle under clear, flawless skin. Pink nipples embellished firm pectorals, strong shoulders led to lean but muscular arms, a smooth ridged abdomen ended at trim, sexy hips. His thighs, although I couldn't see them felt wonderfully firm beneath me and the length and width of his cock was impressive to say the least. His sparse light-colored pubic hair told me he was indeed a natural blonde, though I didn't question that in the least. Overall, I couldn't find a damn thing I didn't like about Carlisle Cullen. He was as beautiful as I ever imagined.

He stared down at me as I bobbed my head up and down, never taking his eyes off of mine, but never making a sound either. His cock was unquestionably hard and he looked undeniably aroused, but he just didn't seem to enjoy what I was doing. And Christ, I was giving it my all and my fucking jaw started to hurt, but he just lay there. Growing distressed, I closed my eyes and tried harder, but to no avail. No matter how much tongue I used, how much suction, how many times I swallowed around him, how far I could get him into my throat, how many sounds I made around him, he didn't respond.

What was I doing wrong? I never had a problem doing this before.

Disappointed, and with a sore jaw, I pulled off of him and sat up beside him. He immediately sat up too, gently gripping the back of my neck as he kissed me. "Thank you, Edward," he whispered. "You look beautiful when you do that."

I couldn't stop myself from scoffing. "Well, I obviously wasn't doing it right," I muttered.

"No, you were doing it exactly right, you were doing it wonderfully."

"You sure didn't seem to be enjoying yourself," I said uncomfortably.

"I was enjoying myself, very much, I just have other plans before I show you how good you feel to me."

I scoffed again, not really believing him.

"When you're my age, Edward, you'll understand. You learn how to control yourself much better. It felt incredible, and I could have let loose damn near immediately after feeling your mouth around me, but I don't have the wonderful gift of youth anymore." His cool fingers gently brushed against my hot, stiff length and he chuckled quietly when it twitched at the contact. "I don't think you even went completely soft. If I came, that'd be the end of it."

I sighed. "You could have at least moaned a little bit or something, you're going to give me a complex about my oral skills if you just lie there."

He chuckled again, combing his fingers through my hair. "I'm sorry," he said, leaning in to kiss me more.

Remembering his mention of 'other plans', I pulled back and questioned him about them.

He just smirked. "I'm not going to ruin all the fun and tell you what's in store for you."

"I'm not really a big fan of surprises," I grumbled.

"That's a shame, I guess we can just call it a night then."

"No!" I gasped.

More fucking chuckling from him started to aggravate me. "Then you're going to have to make an exception about surprises, because I have a few for you."

"Fine. Can we start now?" I asked impatiently.

He sighed, giving me a disgruntled look. "You really have to learn some patience, I'm tempted to teach you tonight."

"On second thought, maybe I will go," I joked.

He laughed, then shoved me back into the pillows. "Surprise number one..." he trailed off, straddling my thighs as he leaned over my to pull open a drawer. "I did some shopping. I wasn't really sure what you'd like or expect or want."

In the drawer was a wide variety of everything pertaining to sex. There was porn, different types of condoms and lubes, sex toys―from cock rings to dildos. He went all fucking out. I hesitantly leaned over and grabbed a strip of ribbed latex condoms and a bottle of silicone lubricant, then slammed his little treasure drawer shut.

"I'm a simple man, Carlisle," I said, handing him my choices.

"I went overboard, didn't I?"

I chuckled and nodded. "A little, but I'm sure you can use all of that on yourself." He looked slightly horrified about that and I laughed at him. "Yes, you went a bit over the top, but I appreciate it. Thank you for considering the fact that I might like to be handcuffed to your bed while you fucked me with a lifelike dildo and licked flavored lube off my cock."

He glared, but said, "You're welcome."

"Am I topping?" I asked, wiggling my eyebrows at him and my hips beneath him.

Growing noticeably uncomfortable, he started to stutter, something I believed very few people have ever seen him do. "Oh, um, if... if you want to, I guess, but I've never..."

"I'm kidding, I don't really like topping, I'm just trying to encourage you along. Hurry up, I don't have patience and I'm a needy boy."

He sighed at that, visibly relaxing. "What position do you want to start in then, needy boy?" he asked amusedly.

"The one where you fuck my brains out."

He growled and dropped down to kiss me, biting my already bruised lips. "I can do that," he assured. I heard the tear of a packet being separated at the perforated line and I ducked my head to watch him roll the condom on.

"Do you need me to, uh... Or?" he questioned awkwardly, motioning toward the lube.

"I can do it," I told him, grabbing the bottle and popping the lid.

"Oh, okay. Do you want me to leave?"

"What? No. Why would I want you to leave?"

"I don't know, I thought perhaps you'd want privacy."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Are you sure you're okay with doing this?"

"Yes, absolutely, I just want you to be as comfortable as possible."

I rolled my eyes again and squirted some of the lube onto my fingers, rubbing it in slightly to warm it up. Carlisle moved to sit beside me and I raised my knees, spreading my legs apart to give myself room to work. I met his eyes and winked at him as I reached down to ready myself. His eyes moved from mine and watched me as I gently rubbed my entrance then easily slid a finger in. The second finger went in smoothly and I fingered myself for a few minutes. He seemed to like watching and it felt nice, but I wanted more.

I removed my fingers and poured more lube onto my hand. Wrapping a tight fist around his condom covered cock, I worked the lubricant all over him and was satisfied to actually hear him make a little noise this time. Apparently he was taking my advice.

With us both ready, I moved my hand to my own cock and rubbed the lube into my skin then gripped his hips and guided him to me. Between my legs, he ruthlessly began to slide his cock up and down, alternating between sliding his cock all the way up until his head nudged my balls and just letting his tip tease my entrance. It was driving me fucking insane.

I grabbed my cock in my hand, stroking from top to bottom then pushing down hard at the base. Carlisle angrily took my wrist in his hand, pulling my hand from my cock, and at the same time, he pressed into me hard. I yelped and twisted my hand into his, holding on tightly as my head went back. I grunted my praise as the pain turned to pleasure, but he waited until I looked up at him again.

Then he really settled in, sliding his thighs right in under mine, and _settled in_. His cock really was big, and the more he gave to me, the further my eyes rolled back into my head. I didn't let go of his hand.

He stilled completely as every last inch was buried to the hilt. "How are you feeling?" he asked throatily.

I rolled my head forward and closed my dry mouth, swallowing and licking my lips before I attempted answering him. "How do you think I'm feeling?" I asked shortly.

His eyes narrowed as his jaw tightened. "I wouldn't be asking if I knew."

I groaned and rocked my hips, moaning when I actually felt him move inside of me. The just sitting there with his cock lodged into my body was slightly uncomfortable, I needed him to fuck me. "I'm feeling just fucking stellar, are you planning on fucking me this century?"

His eyes narrowed further yet, while his jaw kind of bulged. Then he started to pull out and I just fucking knew what he was going to do.

I gripped the inside of his knee with my free hand―he wouldn't let the other go―and held on tightly, trying to get leverage higher, anywhere, just to keep him in. "No, no, no," I begged. "Don't, please don't. I'll be good," I promised.

But he pulled completely out anyway and I growled and ground my teeth in frustration. I dug my nails angrily into his thigh and he pulled my hand off of him, pinning it down to the bed. He didn't say a word and I just clenched my eyes shut, pissed off that he was doing this to me. I wanted to fucking snap at him, to tell him he could just fucking spank one out because I wasn't standing for this teasing anymore, but I knew where that'd leave me.

Unfucked, needy, and at the mercy of my own boring hands. Again.

No.

I fucking needed this, I needed him. Which meant that I was in for a long fucking night, potentially with cruel teasing and a lack of actual fucking with the rate he was going at.

By the time I forced myself to calm down enough to swallow and relax my jaw, finally able to open my eyes and look at him, he slammed back into me hard.

My eyes weren't even half-open when he did it, and I wondered vaguely if he could see anything but the whites of my eyes. I screamed my pleasure and my pain and his hands released my wrists enough to let me twist them down into the sheets. He didn't move again as he stayed deep in my body, my shuddering body, my craving body, my owned body―I was his.

"How are you feeling?" he asked again, calm as a cucumber as I looked up at him in mild shock and horror and lust.

How could he do this? To me, and to himself? How the hell could he control himself this way?

"I'm good, great," I corrected. "I'm great. Thank you."

He raised one eyebrow and I tried to silently beg him to please, please, please, please move, while not moving myself whatsoever. I knew better now. I couldn't take the feeling of being empty again, not when I knew how it felt to be stretched around him.

"That's good. How do you want it?" he asked.

"However you do, whatever you want. Just please. Please, please, please," I pleaded. I never stopped begging as he started to move out, I only grew more urgent and unrelenting, and when it was just the head of his cock still in me, I wasn't even breathing, just gasping a continuous stings of 'please's.

And when he started to move back into me, I sighed and gasped at the same time, my eyes rolling back into my head again. He moved slowly, inching forward without a rush, without compulsion, just... slow. I moaned and sighed and groaned and hummed and whimpered and whined, and that was all in just one unhurried, deliberate, drawn-out movement.

As he started to pull out again, he changed his hold on my wrists, pinning them upwards instead. He lowered himself over me and I widened my legs, then hugged him with them as he settled between. But I didn't try to guide him, God no. Carlisle would do what he wanted, how he wanted, and I was at his mercy for however long he wanted. He could ask me what I wanted, but I knew, deep down, it didn't matter. He'd have me exactly as he wanted me, and he wouldn't think twice about it, and neither would I. He could beat me in any battle, he was stronger than I was, and I belonged to him, I wouldn't even fight. I couldn't fight, I was powerless.

He unhurriedly kissed me, matching the kiss with the movement of his hips and I was his, completely. His name was the only word to fall from my lips. I breathed his air, I reveled in his touch, I thought of nothing but him, I felt nothing but him.

It mounted and it mounted, until every slow withdraw and push in turned painful. It hurt so good, but still, it hurt. I couldn't take much more.

"Carlisle, Carlisle, Carlisle," I cried.

He fucking knew. He didn't make me wait. He kissed me hard and released my wrists, only to beat me to the hold on my cock.

Fucking Heaven on Earth, he didn't tease me, he didn't make me wait, he didn't even make me beg anymore. He put a strong, hard grip on my cock and pulled and jerked until I screamed for him to stop. He did stop when the pleasure turned painful again and I panted as soothing fingers calmed me. He only moved those fingers, nothing else, and feeling him smear my cum over my chest and stomach made my breathing slow, but only minutely.

I could feel my cock going flaccid between us and I forced my eyelids open to watch as he dragged his fingertips around and around, gathering the pearly fluid and rubbing it into my skin. Then his eyes darted to mine, then to my lips, and wet fingertips followed, spreading the moisture over my mouth.

His eyes moved back to mine, and I fought back my instinct to immediately lick my lips, I waited. I waited until I caught movement in the fringe of my vision, and I watched as he sucked his lower lip between his teeth. I looked up to his eyes again, but he wasn't meeting my stare, he was watching my mouth and I stopped waiting. Tongue first, I tasted myself on my lips and his mouth dropped open, a small sound coming out. I licked at my lips slowly, watching him watch me as I cleaned away every last trace.

Then his fingers were back, wet again, and I waited, but this time it was he who licked my mouth and sucked my lips, but I met him with a greedy tongue and he groaned loudly, hips pushing against me, cock twitching, still in me. Still hard.

That was when I realized that he hadn't cum yet.

He hadn't cum, and I wasn't even fucking disappointed or self-conscious. I was happy. Because my dick was hard again and if he hadn't cum, then I was in for more and I couldn't fucking wait because I really was a needy boy without any patience and I was greedy and I wanted cock hard and fast.

So with him distracted, still laving my lips in attention, I shoved him off of me, hissing when he pulled from my body, leaving me empty. Before he had a chance to do anything I didn't want, I was on top of him, sliding down his hard length and shuddering and moaning with every inch.

I was surprised, but then again not when I finally looked up at him from my place on his cock. He looked proud and maybe a little surprised himself, not at all angry or even upset. Happy. He looked happy.

Wiggling my ass side to side, feeling him move within me, I smirked down at him before clamping my muscles tight and stilling completely. I laughed when I felt him twitch.

"How are you feeling, Carlisle?" I asked.

He just answered with a mirrored smirk. "I know how you're feeling," he said thickly, smugly, moving one hand to my hip and the other to my cock, where he used one finger to tease the rim, then the slit, gathering moisture before putting his finger in his mouth, humming. "I love the human body, don't get me wrong, but I wish it were more flexible so I could have you in my mouth while you rode me. Your taste is exquisite."

I nearly groaned, I nearly bucked my hips, I did definitely twitch, and he noticed that for sure, because his shit-eating grin came back full force and I wiped it away with two fingers smeared with my cooling cum. He groaned around my fingers, hips grinding up into my ass.

I really don't know how he could tease. I just don't. Feeling his cock sliding just so slightly in and out as he grinded, I fucking lost it. Any composure, any plan I made had was shot. I had to fuck him. I had to fuck him now, hard, fast, shamelessly.

I did just that. Riding on his endless cock was the most tiring, unimaginable thing I'd ever done in my life. My thighs burned and my balls ached and I wanted to push him over the edge, so I wouldn't take my bouncing cock in my hand. I wanted to make him cum, so I leaned back and gripped his thighs to stop myself from forcing my impending orgasm, but he used his own hands and he knew just what to do.

My whole mindset changed, and I didn't give a shit if he came. I hoped he didn't, in fact, because I didn't think I was done with him yet. His hand worked expertly and I clamped down on him hard, rocking on his cock right where it felt the best and grinding my teeth down to nothing to keep in my scream of ecstasy.

I came hard and endlessly and he pulled every fucking drop of cum from my body. I doubted I could do this again. I didn't think I could ever get it up again. I was fucking tired and spent, but it was he who wasn't finished yet.

Furiously fast, I was flipped onto my stomach and I barely registered the feel of empty before being full again. My cock rubbed agonizingly against the sheets, more sensitive than I'd ever felt it, and I squirmed to raise my ass, but hard thrusts shoved me back into the bed each time and the squirming made it worse. His cock pounded deep into my body, strong hands spreading my cheeks while his legs locked mine closed, keeping me down.

I writhed and cried and clutched at pillows, at first because I couldn't stand it, but then because I couldn't get enough of it. My cock hardened and I was again begging for a release. I was insatiable, I couldn't get enough, and I wanted another orgasm, just to feel the pulse holding him in place, to feel weightless in him arms again and again.

But he wouldn't let my touch myself and the sheets were chaffing and not providing any pleasure at all as he slammed into me, skin slapping loudly and continuously, not faltering, not quickening, just steady and even.

He pulled out of my body unexpectedly, and I was momentarily stunned, wondering. He didn't seem like the 'moneyshot' type of guy. Would he really bust his nut all over my ass like some fucking porno God? That would be offensive, to say the least, but I still somehow found the idea hot and wondered if he watched a lot of gay porn, because he really was something of a porn star himself.

Then he asked me to turn over. So I did, but he hadn't even torn the condom off and wasn't stroking himself, so I apparently wasn't getting a face full either.

He grabbed the bottle of lube and coated his cock again before guiding himself back inside of me, then taking my dick firmly into his warm, wet hand and stroking it slowly.

 _Oh, God,_ _he's so much better than a porn star._

He chuckled and told me thanks, and I hadn't expected to actually say that out loud, but I laughed with him. His head rolled back as he completely filled my body again and he moaned loudly, for the first time ever. I stared up at him as he continued to stroke my cock, slowly thrusting forward and back.

His body was covered in sweat, the remnants of my last orgasm was spread across his skin, mixing with the sweat. His toned, hard body worked faultlessly, and he really, really was better than any porn star I'd ever seen. He was so good looking, so beautiful, so sexy, so, so perfect, and he was immaculate in bed, he would never be outdone, ever. They just didn't make sex Gods like him everyday, and I was never going to forget this night.

He brought his head forward again and his lip was clamped between his teeth and he looked so young to me. He always looked young to me, but never like this. He looked youthful and carefree and beautiful.

"I love you," I told him.

And he smiled. Such a beautiful smile. He lowered himself over me, never taking his hand off my cock, never faltering in his consistent rhythm, and he kissed me. He kissed me soundly.

He broke away with a grunt and I heard his nails dig into the pillow beneath my head as he fisted it in his hand. He panted hard and he moved quicker, his hips insistently pushing against mine.

The most beautiful sounds came out of his mouth; moans and gasps and grunts. Then the words I'd been dying to hear all night. "Oh, God, Edward," he cried. "I can't hold it back any longer. You're going to make me cum."

And then he begged. "Please, Edward, cum with me. Please."

I moaned right back at him, feeling the coiling tightening, the bubble growing, getting ready to burst, ready to snap, ready to break.

"I love you. I love you too," he panted into my neck, burying his face into my skin and my hair and the pillow and then mumbling a name that I didn't hear over the sound of my orgasm ripping through my body.

He stopped moving within me, but his hand continued to tug and pull, and I didn't know if I even had any cum left in my body. I gave it all to him. I surrendered myself, and it was all worth it. He loved me, and he was throbbing deep in my body, releasing his so deserved orgasm.

I could feel his chest undulating, feel him shaking in my arms, feel him letting go of his tension within me. I could hear him sobbing his pleasure into my ear.

He slid from my body and I sighed, closing my eyes. As he pulled away from me, I didn't think he'd mind if I rolled over―he'd have to wash these sheets anyway―so that's what I did.

I was exhausted and tired and happy. He told me he loved me.

I fell asleep almost instantly, my nose pressed into the pillow that smelled so much of him.

– – –

I woke freezing cold, shivering and mildly confused.

A smile instantly stretched across my face, remembering where I was, what happened between us, and I rolled, looking for his warmth. But he's not there and the bed was cold, and there were no blankets, there's no heat, no warmth at all.

I pulled myself from the bed, knowing I was a disheveled mess, but I didn't care. I hadn't had a shower and I'd just literally forced myself from bed after not nearly enough sleep considering the marathon sex, and I don't think I should be embarrassed about the way I look or smell or feel, because we made love and there wasn't a damn reason for me to feel insecure.

But when I find him in his study, that's exactly how I felt. Seeing the flawless skin of his shoulders clean, the obvious tidiness of his washed hair on his head, I felt uncomfortable. He'd showered and he was fresh, and I probably stunk and looked like shit, and I doubted he'd want to see me this way.

He stood from his chair, and I didn't think he'd noticed me because he didn't turn to face me, but I gasped at the sight of his back and he froze, his body going rigid.

His back was covered in angry red lines, scratches, and splotches of discolored skin, bruises. I did that, I marked him that way. I couldn't remember doing it, and I was so fucking ashamed of myself.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, barely more than a breath.

I knew he heard me. He set down whatever was in his hands stiffly, like he was forcing himself not to throw it, and his knuckles turned white with the death grip he put on the back of his desk chair.

"Carlisle," I said hesitantly, moving a step in his direction, but I froze when he looked at me over his shoulder.

There was no hint of composure in the man that turned to face me. He wasn't the same man from the front as he was from the back. His skin may have been clean and his hair may have been free of dried sweat, but his face was agonized.

His front didn't bear the marks of my passion, but his face was the reflection of his pain. Those minor wounds couldn't be the cause for such suffering, though. I knew that. It was more. There was more, and my entire body seized with the knowledge.

"Please sit down," he said stiffly.

I was nude before him. Nude and dirty and stinking of sex and sweat, but that wasn't the half of it. I was bare. Stripped to the bone before him. He saw straight through me. He looked directly into my eyes, but he saw nothing. I was never so exposed in my life. I was never so invisible.

I sat, more because I couldn't stand anymore than anything else. And he sat too, pants covering the parts of his body that I wished I could hide on my own. But I didn't think that would help me, it wasn't my dick I wanted to hide so much as my heart.

Then he spoke, and his voice was rough like he'd been crying for hours, but I didn't want to know if that was the case, so I looked past him like he did to me. I saw through him. Or I tried to.

His voice was rough, but monotonous, betraying no emotion to me even though I sat before him with my bleeding heart.

"My wife died five years ago, I've been with no one since, and I'll be with no one again."

That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. No goodbye, no apology, just 'my wife is dead, but I won't let you replace her'.

I didn't even want to replace her. I understood. He loved her, it was as simple as that, and I really did understand that. But he wouldn't even trying to make room for me. He just wanted me to go, of that I was positive.

So I stood, and my knees shook, but I made them hold me up. I said nothing. But he did, and his voice made my knees buckle and I fell right back into that chair.

"Don't you have any questions?"

He wasn't looking at me, or through me, at all anymore, but at the floor. The floor was more interesting. The floor didn't smell like road kill or look like it―or feel like it.

"What would I ask?" I heard myself ask. I was shocked by how emotionless I sounded to myself. Like him. I sounded like him, blank and empty. I wondered if I looked like him, so agonized and tortured. I wondered if he felt like me.

"You can ask anything you want to," he replied.

"I'm not interested in more of your lies," I said, surprisingly still cool, vacant of my terror, my pain, my hate, my love.

"I never lied to you, Edward, never. I've always been honest," he whispered, meeting my eyes with his cold, dead stare.

There was nothing there. It was repulsive. It wasn't the man I fell in love with. "You told me you loved me," I challenged him, staring into his eyes.

Something flashed, something, deep within him, but it disappeared with a blink. "I do love you, but I love my wife. I tried, Edward. I can't move on. I'm sor―"

"Do not," I roared, cutting him off. "Do not apologize. You're not fucking sorry."

"I am," he insisted. "I'm so sorry for what I did to you. I shouldn't have let you fall in love with me."

I laughed bitterly at that. "Let me? Like you had a choice to either let me or not. Like I had choice. There was no choice, Carlisle. I loved you before I knew you."

And it's there, it flashed again, through those vacant blue eyes. Life, love, something, it brightened, then dulled, and disappeared. "I'm sorry," he said, without a hint of emotion.

"You honestly feel it, you feel what we have between us, our love?"

He answered predictably dully, "Yes, I feel our love, I feel your love, and I feel the love I have for you, but it doesn't change anything."

"It doesn't change anything?" I repeated.

"No."

That was all the finality I needed. He was perfectly clear. He loved me, but he loved his dead wife more. I paled in her shadow. I didn't stand a chance. I never had. "That's all I really need to know," I told him, standing before him, surprisingly steady though I felt like I'd crumble at any moment.

"One more moment, please," he asked.

"I owe you nothing," I spat back at him, striding for the door.

"No, but I owe you one last thing, Edward. Please, just let me make you one promise."

"I don't want your promises."

"I know you don't, and I'm sorry, but I only want what's best for you."

"Fuck you," I screamed, snapping. "Fuck you, you are what's best for me, but you won't even try. You're giving up, so fuck you," I yelled, whirling around to face him.

I didn't expect to find him crumbling, I didn't expect to see his tears, I didn't expect to see him staring at me with such pain in his eyes that it was unbearable to look at, and impossible to look away from. He was being honest, he did love me and I could see it there, on his face. And I hated him for it. I hated that he could love me and hurt me this way at the same time.

"Do you think this is what she wants for you?" I screamed at him. "Do you think she wants you to be miserable? Do you think she'd be happy to know that you gave up on the one chance you took because of her? Because I don't think she'd want this for you. I don't know her, Carlisle, but I know you. I know you're a good man, I know you wouldn't have married a woman that was so sadistic that she'd want her husband to suffer for the rest of his life because she was gone. She's not coming back. She's never coming back."

"It doesn't matter what she would want or what you want, Edward."

No. No, I guess it didn't. I mattered what he wanted. And that wasn't me. Not anymore.

"I'm not what is good for you, I'm a half of a man with no heart. My heart is in heaven with my wife, and I'm sure she would want me to love you, Edward, I'm sure she is why I do love you, but I can't condemn you to this life. I'll never be happy, I'll never love you completely, I'll never be able to wake up with you every morning and pretend that you're who I want to find sleeping next to me. That's why I'm doing what's best for you. I'm telling you to go and I'm not looking back. You'll never see me again, Edward. That is a promise that I will keep. You won't see me again."

"And I'll think of you every day, you'll be my Esme," I said softly.

His jaw shut so tightly, I heard his teeth snap clear across the room. "Don't speak her name," he yelled angrily. "You don't know of our love, you cannot speak of it. The love that my wife and I share, it is the love of soul mates. You and I are not more than lovers, Edward. You are young, you are naïve, you think you know what true love is, but I am telling you now that you do not. You may think of me every day, but only at first, you will forget me, eventually. I know it hurts now, but you'll heal and you'll move on. I was not meant for you, I was meant for someone else. I love you, Edward, I do, but not enough. You'll understand someday, after you find the other half of your soul, the one who holds your heart."

He looked almost peaceful before me, and I wanted to grab the desk and hurl it at him. I wanted to pound his flesh to a bloody pulp. I wanted to make love to him until he forgot this ridiculous thought of leaving me. I wanted to run for my fucking life.

"Go, Edward."

So I went, and I heard him promise again that I wouldn't ever have to see him after today, and I froze. I froze and my heart stopped cold and I turned to face him. All I saw was pain and emptiness and I was scared, so scared of what that meant. But behind him, on the bookcase was the rack of acclamations, achievements, accomplishments in his field of study. Would he give up his half life, kill himself, or would he continue, funding research and doing bounds himself in his wife's name?

I decided that I didn't care. It was his half life. It was his choice. I was not his choice. His mind was made and he wouldn't see me ever again. That was his choice. He could move away, to a bigger city with a bigger lab and more options, farther away from 'home' or he could end his suffering.

But I knew Carlisle Cullen.

He was a masochistic bastard.

He'd live his life to the bitter end, taking every lick of pain he was given.

And as I collected my clothing, I was happy. I was happy he spared me that pain. Because he was right, I didn't want that half life with him. I didn't want his pain. I didn't want the torment of his dead wife weighting down on me.

So I collected my clothing and I said a silent goodbye to Carlisle Cullen, and I took my disjointed, barely beating, bleeding heart along with me, because it didn't belong to him.


End file.
